


Love’s Melody

by hybridshade (shimyaku)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Breasts, Challenge Response, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Intimacy, Medical, Metaphors, Multi, OT3, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimyaku/pseuds/hybridshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal is injured, but he’s slowly healing and Peter and El give him strength.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love’s Melody

**Title:** Love’s Melody  
 **Pairing:** established OT3  
 **Rating:** pg13  
 **Warnings:** hurt!Neal, a medical term or two, El’s boobs.  
 **Word count:** 1600+  
 **Summary:** Neal is injured, but he’s slowly healing and Peter and El give him strength.  
 **A/N:** Written for [](http://theatregirl7299.livejournal.com/profile)[**theatregirl7299**](http://theatregirl7299.livejournal.com/) s prompt ‘music’ over at comm [](http://run-the-con.livejournal.com/profile)[**run_the_con**](http://run-the-con.livejournal.com/). And despite my prompt, I purposely didn’t write the word ‘music’ in this a single time, as it is not about your usual kind of music, but a more organic kind I guess you could say...

 

Peter grabbed Neal’s hand and squeezed as he was led away on a stretcher, the EMTs sliding him into the ambulance and strapping him down for transportation. Peter hopped straight in next to him, keeping in contact with Neal all the while, encouraging him to stay conscious while the van's engine rumbled to life and took off for St. Luke’s.

“Neal Neal Neal, why is it always you? It’s like you’ve got a bad-guy beacon strapped to your head and they’re like moths, drawn into the light like they’ve got no choice and they don’t even know why.”

“’s a really pit’ful anal’gy, Peter,” Neal slurred out between a bruised jaw and a split lip. “An’ I ‘m a beac’n – ‘nly jus’ meant t’ be for you, not t’ bad guys.”

“Well, I keep trying to find something you’re not good at, you know? So maybe this is it,” Peter joked, “Staying out of their way, I mean.”

Neal tried to snort but it turned into a hiss when the sound disturbed his ribs and suddenly reminded him of the ache throbbing in that part of his body. The agent tried to soothe him with gentle promises, and of course it helped, hearing that familiar rolling tone speaking those reassuring words, but the pain meds the EMTs had injected him were also starting to take effect, numbing him all over.

“‘s a good q’estion though,” Neal sighed, dejected and slowly giving in to the anaesthesia, “Why’s it always me?”

Peter had been about to make a further jest when he caught the resigned look on the con-man’s face, realising it was a genuine question this time.

“Well, I guess in a lot of ways you’re the most vulnerable of us,” he answered with as much truth as he dared.

“You’d think... wit’ all t’ stuff I know...”

“Yes, but all that _stuff_ can be just as much of a target. Besides that we - as in the FBI - put you in situations where you’re exposed and can’t always protect yourself as you might have once before. It’s our fault, too… But then you go jumping in head-first anyway, don’t you?”

Neal’s eyes fluttered closed and he groaned as the sedation began to take him completely over, the other man's voice whiting-out like a badly tuned tv.

Peter smiled, squeezing his friend’s hand again. “I know you can't help it, but sometimes you just shine a little too brightly. You’re a hard man to not notice, Neal Caffrey.”

~<<*>>~

It was with a reluctant hand that El shook Neal awake, helping him to sit up so he could swallow his array of colourful pills doled out from the hospital. Two weeks had passed since they’d pulled him beaten and left-for-dead from a shipping container. El remembered vividly walking into that room in the emergency department, apprehensive of what she’d find since Peter had been so distraught over the phone. And Neal – his body had been so black and blue had she been anywhere but where she was she could have sworn those dark colours were painted onto his skin, so vibrant they were.

Peter had already been there, holding Neal’s good hand, and had reached out for her without a word, the click-click of her heels disturbing the otherwise restrained quiet of the room.

“Is he-?”

“He’ll be fine.”

And nothing more had been said as the Burkes held each other and had watched over the person they, together, loved most. There was only the whirr of machines, the metrical beep of the heart monitor, the tense but relieved exhalations of two, and the shallow, rasping, but thankfully alive, breaths of one.

Now. Now they had finally been able to bring him home and while Peter continued to work relatively as per normal, El had taken some time off and it was with great relish that she played nurse to their live-in patient. She helped to feed him and bathe him, putting her hands on him at every opportunity, and simply holding him against her whenever possible, desperate to hear the smooth and sturdy lungfuls of air that passed his lips, reminding her he was still right there where he belonged.

Climbing on the bed with him, El situated herself behind Neal, his back curving comfortably into her front as she tugged him down to lie against her like a pillow.

“This is the most comfy for you, right?”

“Absolutely,” Neal agreed, his lower body twisted so it leaned against her thigh, easing the weight on his hip where he’d taken a particularly hard blow, consequently wrenching the muscles in his lumbar region. He sucked in a breath as he moved wrong, his ribs twinging, but settled quickly as he found the cosiest spot, El’s hand creeping under his pyjama shirt and resting lightly on the slope of his side. She touched him incessantly lately – not that he minded in the least – and though he knew exactly why she did it, it still amused him nonetheless. She was touchy-feely enough when he _wasn’t_ injured, and the thought tempted a short chuckle to bubble up from his throat.

“Something funny, Mister?” El grinned down at her armful, though he couldn’t see her face. Of course, she couldn’t help but smile, not after hearing the lively cadence of Neal’s laugh, as it never failed to cheer her.

“Nope, not a thing.”

“Sure,” she teased, idly stroking her hand along his waist. “Did you want me to rub your back again? You said it helped yesterday.”

“It’s fine. I’m good right here.”

In no time at all Neal was asleep and El had fallen into a light doze, but they were soon awoken by the keys in the lock of the front door, the scuffing steps across the floorboards and then the muted taps as they ascended the stairs.

Peter poked his head into the bedroom a moment later, frowning at the two bleary-eyed expressions looking up at him from the bed.

“What’s he doing?”

El huffed. “Lying on my chest - he says it’s a comfortable position for him. Why, what’s the matter?”

Peter snorted in disbelief. “Oh, nothing. Just that he’s using that line on you so he can get his face close to your... um, your breasts.”

“So?” El queried, uncomprehending. “I mean, I’ve always thought my boobs were quite nice - _ample_ , you know? And I know _you_ think they’re nice, too, so don’t you pretend otherwise.”

“Yeah, Peter,” Neal mumbled from where his mouth was pressed up against El’s skin-warm t-shirt, “Nice boobs.”

The agent grunted in response. “All those medications have killed your eloquence _and_ your shame. Although I’m still doubtful whether you ever had the latter in the first place.”

“Peter, leave him be-”

Neal tuned out after that, letting their playful bickering drift over him like a fluffy blanket.

For all that he generally disliked ingesting any kind of mind or body altering substances, his condition at this point still necessitated their use. And right in that moment, he felt as though he were floating on a wave of pure and utter contentment, Peter’s dulcet tones having a go at him in the background, El justly defending his honour while holding him tight against her body.

It was true, as Peter had phrased it, that he’d said it was comfortable in order to get close to her breasts, but it wasn’t true for the reason the other man had inferred it. Rather, he just liked the feeling of being embraced by a warm body, the softness of El’s curves curling around him in all the right ways. And then the steady beat of her heart drumming up through her chest and resonating through the side of his face that was pressed against her, its rhythmic _thump-thump_ lulling him into a state of calm that his current injuries usually prevented.

It had been a steady thing up until a few moments ago when Peter had entered, coiled up with Elizabeth at his back, their body heat mingling and the pace of their exhalations in sync. She had him pulled solidly against her, fingers running through his hair, a soft song humming through her upper body and tickling his cheek. And then Peter had broken the peace with his brash but teasing comments, causing that low beat to flutter along with El’s laugh, and skip loudly back-n-forth when she threw Peter’s sassy remarks straight back at him.

Not that he favoured the unpredictable momentum any less.

“Well, are you gonna keep standing there or come to bed?” Neal muttered, cutting through their banter without even raising his voice.

“That depends…”

“On?”

“I thought we’d get takeout,” Elizabeth answered, picking up on Peter’s train of thought, “Because I don’t think either of us are moving anytime soon.”

“But that’s just unfair,” the other man whined, hurriedly shucking his work clothes and pulling on his threadbare sweats before standing at the side of the bed with his hands placed sternly on his hips.

“In what possible way is any of this unfair?” Neal grinned up from his most favoured position, nestled in the valley of El’s bosom.

“Well, because she seems to have the whole lot of you. And the only way I’m coming down there is if she shares.”

“Oh, you big baby,” El sighed with fondness, helping Neal to slowly move into another arrangement, one Burke on either side.

Cradled between the constant beating of two hearts and warmed by the gentle puffs of air that hit his neck – one from each side – Neal tumbled downward and drowned in a sea of tranquillity.

On second thought, _this_ was his most favoured position, wedged between two intimately familiar bodies, listening to the perfect harmonies they made together.


End file.
